


Faithful Guide

by brayslmarch



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Drift Side Effects, Gen, Ghost Drifting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Newmann for the end game I swear, Newton Geiszler Has ADHD, Newton Geiszler has Anxiety Disorder, Nightmares, Nosebleed, Post-Canon, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brayslmarch/pseuds/brayslmarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt was already broken, but Hermann could walk away from everything still capable of functioning like a real human being. He could go on from the PPDC back to Oxford or Berlin or really anywhere because he’s a badass scientist and one of the coolest dudes on earth, if you can get past the scowl and ugly haircut. But Newton...well he was being haunted by the ghosts of a dead Kaiju.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Faithful Guide

**Author's Note:**

> Eyy so I've had this idea kicking around for a while. I'm not very good at updating frequently with work and school and stuff but I think I'm in this one for the long haul. I've been reading some really great fanfictions for this sort of thing and it just kills me to use Newton for my own personal travesties but here we go. TW for nosebleeds and panic attacks.

Chapter One: Faithful Guide

 

_**dark dark dark cold, so cold, and yet right. weightless suspension, the ocean floor below him soaring past as if he were flying. everything was so small, or maybe he was immense, powerful, fea r ed--** _

__

_**No, no, this wasn’t right. The crushing pressure surrounded him, water flowing in his gaping mouth and filling his lungs and dark so dark this was n t r ight** _

__

_**Let m e go-- jaws opening wide, a roar tearing from his throat, his teeth ripping metal, the screech of death and destruction echoing beneath his feet as-- let me go, wake up wake up wake** _

 

“--safe. Newton, wake up.” Newton shuddered awake with a choked scream, the feeling of death and drowning clawing at his throat. There was a hand pressed against his shoulder holding him down, and it took all his self control in his nightmare-addled brain not to lash out against it. He panted, and realized his eyes were already open, but only now was he seeing, “you’re safe, shh, c’mon.”

 

Newt blinked blurrily, breath still heavy and his chest still constricted as if someone was sitting on him. It was Hermann, looking tired and annoyed and slightly bemused. Dr Hermann Gottlieb, his coworker for nearly ten years and possibly the smartest man on earth, excluding himself, sitting on the side of his bed. He was dressed in his old man pyjamas--really, as if Hermann would wear age-appropriate undies--a rueful smile on his face, and his hand resting firmly against Newt’s shoulder. Newt shuddered again, feeling the touch in double vision. It had been nearly six months since the end of the world, since he drifted with his lab partner, and yet he was still experiencing Drift Hangover. Feeling emotions that weren’t his, sharing experiences he wasn’t present for, and the awkwardness of subconsciously being always in sync...the phenomenon happened with Jaeger pilots, but only for a few days at most. He had his theories of why they were still Ghost Drifting, and he assumed his Pons system made of scrap metal had a whole lot to do with it. Of course, out of anybody, he would rather have shared his mind with the great Dr Gottlieb. He worried he was still ghost drifting with his other drift partner, as well.

 

“F-fuck, I’m a-awake--” His room was dark, the only light coming from his alarm clock, blinking _4:15 am_ in acidic green. He groaned, relaxing back, hands pressed against the hollows of his eyes. It had been six months since the breach was closed, and Hermann Gottlieb was still acting as his personal babysitter every night. Newton had been plagued with nightmares since he drifted with a less than human partner. He’s visited by the kaiju every night. And every night, Hermann would wake him and sit. Sometimes he brought tea, and they would talk. Other nights they sat silently together.

 

“Good to have you back in the waking world with the rest of us,” Hermann said, handing him his glasses off the side table. Newt blinked blearily, sitting up and pushing his glasses on, a hand still against his forehead. He could feel his pulse in his veins against his palm and his shirt was wet with sweat.

 

“Glad to be back,” he huffed tiredly, looking up at Hermann in the darkness, “thanks.”

 

“I’ve told you it’s no problem,” Hermann said, standing slowly. Newt could hear his joints cracking as he did so--sometimes, he swore Hermann was made of glass. Other times, it was more likely he was made of steel. The man tapped his temple, “I was awake anyways.”

 

“Shit, sorry,” Newt often forgot his nightmares were not just his anymore. Ever since they had drifted together, it was as if his mind was a radio, constantly broadcasting just to Hermann. It happened less during the day; there were only a few times when they’d be in the lab and Hermann would turn to look at him sourly, and Newton would have to apologize for an errant thought meant just for himself. It was getting hard to keep secrets, especially since Hermann seemed to be more attuned to Newt than the other way around. But during the nights, Hermann would say it was as if Newt was a loudspeaker, constantly blaring every time Mutavore or Otachi decided to visit.

 

Newt could hear Hermann too, sometimes; though, if he were being honest, it wasn't so much as _hearing_ , but more so _understanding_. Feeling. He could feel the creak and ache in Hermann’s leg. He could feel the numbers rushing past his mind like cars speeding down a highway. He sometimes caught the tug of a memory--the smile of an unknown family member, the feeling of hands on his--but rarely was Hermann as open as Newton seemed to be. They had never once actually tested it, or really spoken about it openly. Newton was still unsure if it was real, or just a heightened sense of predictability. Either way, Hermann was good at knowing just what he was thinking, and it bothered him a little. 

 

“The usual, again? Being chased?” Hermann asked quietly. He was already in the tiny joint kitchen, flipping on the kettle and rummaging through Newton’s mostly-empty cupboards for the box of tea. Newt sighed, pushing himself out of bed and shook his head.

 

“Nah, it was...drowning,” **_and I was a kaiju_** , he thought, but bit his tongue, glancing sidelong at Gottlieb. The other man didn’t seem to catch the thought; or if he had, he was doing a good job of ignoring it. Newt shuffled into the kitchenette, flopping down on one of the less-than-sturdy plastic chairs with a sigh, “when...when will this stop? The apocalypse is over, we won, we get to keep on living, and yet here I am waking up every night shaking--” It was so tiring, and he wasn't just effecting himself anymore. Every night when Hermann showed up at his bedside to comfort him he felt a pang of guilt. Newton and Hermann had always been roomed next to each other; it was easier to have the K-sci team all in one sector, and unsurprisingly there was no scientist on the team between _Geiszler_ and _Gottlieb_. Their quarters were side-by-side, at the end of a hallway, and they shared the tiny kitchenette where they now sat huddled around two cups of tea.

Before all of this, before they had drifted and before the breach had closed and before the dead bonds of a monster wreaked havoc on Newt's brain at night, it wasn't surprising to find Newt and Hermann up late squabbling. They used to fight like a pair of old nannies, Tendo would say. Newt had always found some sense of pleasure in getting a rise out of the other man, and Hermann had always been too proud to be proven wrong about anything. Newt remembered one night coming home drunk from the bar, waking up Hermann while taking down some pots to make some Mr.Noodles _'because someone who doesn't like Mr.Noodles while drunk is probably the antichrist'_. He had stumbled and sent all of their pots and pans flying across the tiny counter and floor, and it might as well have been a cat-four Kaiju rolling through the Shatterdome with how pissed off Hermann had been. That had been a long night, and Stacker himself had come down the next morning to issue them a noise violation warning.

 

Newt would live that a hundred times over just to have some peace of mind again.

 

“Oh, tut, self-deprecating isn’t going to help you,” Hermann huffed, placing a mug of tea on the table in front of Newt and sitting opposite to him, sipping his own cup, “you've experienced an immense trauma, you'll need time to heal."

 

"I thought you were a physicist, not a psychologist. In fact, I know way more about the brain than you do," Newton grumbled, but he knew deep down Hermann was right, which was not something Newton admitted often aloud, "I just...I just want one night of normal sleep again." He took a swig of his tea--oolong with honey--and sighed haughtily, "do you...do you see what I'm dreaming?"

 

"Glimpses, small bits of vision and sound," He replied, taking a slow sip, "but more often it is the feeling that wakes me. I was always a light sleeper."

 

"Feeling? What's it feel like?" Newt tried to look curious, as if he wasn't expecting the answer. Hermann eyed him warily before replying quietly.

 

"Suffocation, fear...I can feel your panic and pain," he looked at Newton over his mug, the heat of the tea fogging up his slipping glasses. Newt looked between Hermann and the floor. He could feel Hermann’s pain too; the twinge in his knee, the feeling of people looking at him like he was _less_...

 

"You can tell me," Hermann said after a minute of shared silence, "you know I won't force you to talk, however I..."

 

"I just don't want you to look at me differently," Newton murmured quietly, avoiding the look Hermann was giving him. He didn't like seeing Hermann worried and looking at him; he was so used to seeing the other man look like he had bitten into a lemon, or even looking at Newt as if he astonished someone as dumb as a pebble had made it through six doctorates. But worry...worry was worse. It hurt.

 

His dreams were leaking. In the beginning when the terror came it was just at night; every night, but only when he slept.

 

But recently, Newt would wake up from a nightmare already standing. He was having them during the day, while he was already fully awake and functional. The first time had been minutes after waking up in the morning; he had been up that night with a nightmare, but had slumped back into bed and fallen back asleep around 5:00am. In the morning he had begrudgingly gotten up, near-crawling to the bathroom--he wasn't exactly a morning person, and nightmares every night was unsurprisingly not very restful. Newt remembered pulling his toothbrush out of it's cup by the sink, and squeezing an ample amount of toothpaste onto the bristles but then---

 

**_d ark dar k cold fear_ **

****

**_destroy them, make them suffer, feel the scream of metal crunching in my jaws and the cracking of the earth beneath me as the insects flee and hid e but no one can hide fro m d eat h_ **

****

\--he was in the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter, his knuckles white. The room was spinning and he could feel something wet dripping down his lips and knew his nose was bleeding.

 

Hermann had been in the lab already on that day, and Newton opted not to tell him that he had experienced a sudden collapse of his mental faculties for what had to have been at least ten minutes, while still functioning outwardly.

 

And since then, they had been becoming more and more frequent, and Newton found himself somewhere he didn't remember going to almost once a week, then once every few days. The helipad, overlooking the shore, the lab window, looking out into the ocean, in the cafeteria, staring into soup he didn't remember buying...The latest had happened earlier the previous day, in the lab. One moment he had been dissecting a throat tissue sample on his side of the room, the next moment he had been on Hermann's side, still holding the scalpel in hand. Hermann had been _rig_ _ht there_ , too, looking up from his dusty old chalkboard to look at Newton with a worried curiosity.

 

It was getting hard to hide.

 

He had the sinking feeling that Herman knew, but if the other half of the brain behind saving the world had done anything to let on that he knew, Newt missed it.

 

Hermann was reaching across the dingey table, placing a hand over Newt’s in a move that was way too sentimental for either of their tastes. Newton barely kept in a snort, but didn’t move his hand.

 

“I do not fathom it’s _possible_ for me to look at you any worse,” he said dryly, and the laugh that Newt had been holding back finally bubbled forward. Hermann’s thin lips quirked upwards at the side, and he bowed his head, “I’m _serious_ , I thought you were aware of my opinion that you are immature, unclean, egotistical, and make decisions with less thought to them than a halfwit. However you are also brilliant, passionate, and a revolutionary mind. A little emotional trauma won’t change my opinion of you.”

 

“God, just say you’re in love with me already,” Newt snorted, taking back his hand and balancing his chair on two legs, “what if...what if the drift changed that revolutionary mind you’re lusting after--”

 

“I am not _lusting after_ \--”

 

“Oh shut up, you literally just told me you’re in love with me,” Newt gave Hermann his patented shit-eating grin, but that faded pretty quickly, “I’m serious, though...what if I’m losing it? Every day, I feel like I’m a little less in touch, my grip on reality getting a little looser--”

 

_**cold cold dark co ld water cascading off my back as i breach through the surface. find kill destroy find the one who calls us and de str oy him. the air is cold and the people run from me, but he cannot he cann ot h ide** _

 

“--right, man? _Mein gott_ , Newton!!” There was someone touching his elbow, and a hand grasped firmly on his shoulder as if he were about to fall over. He shoved it off, unthinking, and was surprised when he did fall over, landing on his ass before he even understood what was happening.

 

He wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. In fact, he wasn’t even in his room anymore,but out in the hallway, crumpled in a pile about twenty feet from his open door. Newton blinked, confused, disconnected. When had he...? He wiped the itch under his nose and almost laughed when he saw red blood effectively smeared up his arm. He felt a hovering presence above him and looked up; Hermann was indeed hovering worriedly, face ashen.

 

Well, _fuck._


	2. I Dreamt you were a Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marshall Herc Hansen thinks Kaiju lay eggs, and Newton tells Hermann exactly what's been going on. I'd love to hear what you guys think!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I had to look up way too much about biology for that dumb psuedo-science tirade there. The worst part about writing a smart character is that you have to pretend to be smart too. TW for nosebleeds, again.

 

 

“I suggest you tell me what in the heavens _that was_ before I carry you to the med bay myself.” Hermann’s voice was tight but his face betrayed his worry and fear. Newton could feel the man’s panic edging in on his own, the part of his brain where Hermann had taken up shop pulsing. There was another part of his mind pulsing, vibrating **_let us out to play again--_**

  


“What? Uh, nothing, I’m good, god stop looking at me like I’m a five year old who just fell off his bike,” Newt pushed him away, suddenly feeling like the other man was a little too close for comfort. He wobbled to his feet, pinching his nose at the bridge to try to stave off the bleeding. Tilting his head back and using his other hand to lean against the wall because his legs were being less than cooperative, he hobbled to the bathroom, Hermann right on his heels, “I’m _fine_.”

  


“Newton, you just became unresponsive mid sentence before nearly flipping the table and running for the door, only to then fall to the ground and commence bleeding from your nose. If you’re fine, then I should announce my new position as _the tooth fairy_.” He rounded the corner behind Newt, watching sourly as the man stuffed tissues into his nose with less grace than a newborn giraffe. Newt gave him a sidelong look, balling up more tissue in his hands.

  


“Okay, so, uh, yeah maybe I haven’t been _completely_ honest with you?” He gave a weak smile, but between his shivering and the pale, sweaty look on his face the effect was mostly lost.

  


“You don’t say.” Hermann replied dryly, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, “any why, may I ask, did you think it was wise to omit--”

  


“I’m not your responsibility, Hermann,” Newt spat, pulling out the blood-soaked tissues from his nose with a sniff. He stared at himself, avoiding Hermann’s eyes. He was pale, and despite clinging to the bowl of the sink with white knuckles, his legs were still shaking and he looked like the sink was the only thing keeping him upright. His hair was a mess and his glasses were partly askewed, and dried blood still speckled his upper lip. He rubbed at it, sniffling, “you don’t need to coddle me--”

  


“Please, making sure my colleague isn’t brain damaged is hardly coddling.”

  


“I’m not _brain damaged_ ,” Newton cried, voice rising in pitch, “I can still work! It’s been six months, we’ve made some big breakthroughs on Kaiju anatomy and brain structure, if Hansen finds out I’m part timing as not me I’ll be booted to some asylum before you can say _somnambulism_ ,” He exhaled loudly, watching himself in the mirror, “Hermann, c’mon, we shared our brainspace with a kaiju, I did it twice! There’s bound to be a bit of, ehn,” he made a wriggling motion with his fingers, shrugging, “you said yourself I need time to heal. Please, please don’t tell anyone about this,” he turned now to Hermann, giving him a strained smile, “I got this under control.”

  


“Please forgive me if I don’t have full confidence in your judgement, Newton,” Hermann said, but sighed and uncrossed his arms, “but I will forgo mentioning this to anyone, at least for the moment. Now will you please tell me what’s going on?”

  


Newton considered dodging the question, but judging off the look on Hermann’s face, his mind once again betrayed him.

  


“Don’t even think about shirking me off with an excuse of wanting to work in the lab, Newton,” Hermann said, positioning himself in the doorway which effectively blocked the way for Newt’s quickly forming getaway, “honestly, do you think I don’t have a clue of what’s happening? You often forget that since our drift you’ve become even more of an open book...”

  


“Hey, no, I am a mystery to behold,” Newt frowned, crossing his arms. He sighed, sitting on the edge of the tiny bathtub, gesturing for Hermann to sit beside him, “okay, well, I have a few theories of what’s going on in here,” he waved his hand towards his head, staring at the floor, “I think, when I drifted with the kaiju the first time, well...when a Jaeger pilot drifts, there’s three members, themself, their partner, and the Pons system; the Jaeger they’re controlling. Their combined headspace is being monitored and controlled by the system and their brains are otherwise being occupied trying to control the Jaeger itself.”

  


“Newton, out of anyone in the Shatterdome, I think you and I understand the basics on the Neural Handshake.” Hermann cut in, lips thin. Newt frowned, giving him a look.

  


“I know, I was getting to my point eventually, okay, don’t rush me man. When I drifted with Mutavore, we didn’t have a middle man. That, and taking into account that the Pons I used was scraped together by crap I found around the lab--rather ingeniously may I add--”

  


“Well, I would beg to differ.”

  


“I had a seizure from neural overload,” Newton powered on, “and the Kaiju...we never _stopped_ drifting. I’m sure you’ve heard Dr. Lightcap’s theory on ghost drifting, after the Neural Handshake is disconnected a link between still exists, but that’s supposed to last hours not...”

  


“Months,” Hermann set his cane down against the porcelain tub, folding his hands in front of him, “assuming it was the strength of the neural tax, and the fact that you did it twice, even with my help. Newton, we are still drifting, as well, I assume you’ve noticed. It could be the same phenomenon, without a significant third party to restrain the load, we’ve been permanently linked.”

  


“Our brains are scarred, dude,” Newton said, absently running his hand against the back of his head, where his bond with Hermann thrummed, “an open link that won’t close. And it’s a two way street, which means...” he tapped a finger against his forehead.

  


“The Kaiju are hearing us just as we’re hearing them.” Hermann finished. Newt hated how often they would finish each other’s sentences in public; he found their newfound synchronization to be a little embarrassing in comparison to their past hostility, especially when the others pointed it out. But in private, it served useful.

  


“Exactly. And I think the Kaiju are using that link to...to get to me,” he shuddered, a part inside him flaring with excitement at the thought, “it’s as if they take over, I don’t know how but sometimes I just...black out, go away for a little bit and come back in a totally different place than I was before. It’s like they’re using me, or trying to, and...and...” _**It’s getting worse**_.

  


“It’s getting worse,” Hermann frowned, “I can’t believe I never picked up on this before. I knew there was _something_ you weren’t telling me, I could feel it, however I never imagined...”

  


“I don’t know how they’re doing it,” Newt scratched at the back of his head, staring at Hermann’s feet, at his hands, his cane, “maybe it’s something to do with how Kaiju brains work. Drift partners are known to pick up traits from one another, what if I’ve...changed, to let someone come into my brain and take control? What if it’s like how the Kaiju are controlled by the Precursors...”

  
Hermann put his hand over Newt’s and for the first time Newt realized he was scratching so hard he had started to bleed. He rubbed at it instead, feeling the sting, trying to get the bleeding to stop.

“May I remind you that none of this has any sort of scientific basis. For all we know this could just be your anxiety playing up in a most paranoid way.”

“It’s not _just_ anxiety,” though there was that, too. He was getting better at remembering to take his pills, now that Hermann was privy to the fact that he had to take pills in the first place. But anxiety didn’t cause someone to black out, to have their body walk about without them inside.... Hermann tutted, awkwardly patting Newt’s shoulder.

“Come on, Newton. We’ve defeated the Kaiju once before, we bloody well can defeat the dead ones in your head, too. Now let’s get up off this bathtub before my backside falls completely asleep. I’m sure they’re already serving breakfast in the mess hall.”

 ****  


***

“You’d think, now that we’re in peacetime, we’d actually get some decent scrambled eggs. Maybe add a little milk in there, god, it tastes like rubber.” Newt sneered, pushing his eggs around his plate with a look of disgust on his face.  By the time he and Hermann had gotten dressed and showered and made their way down to the mess hall it was nearly seven am, and the hall was getting packed with those on the morning shift. Newt had gotten their plates, (dried out scrambled eggs, some meat that was pretending to be bacon, and the saddest looking toast this side of the pacific), and walked back to where Hermann had gotten them a table crowded in between some technical engineers. By 7:15am, the tech guys had shuffled off to their posts as Marshall Herc Hansen and Tendo Choi came in and took their places. The newbies always tended to fly off whenever Herc entered the room.

“Hey, maybe they’ve started using Kaiju eggs, the board was talking to cut some costs ‘bout a week ago,” Herc muttered, spreading some brown goo across his toast from a little tube. Newt gasped, looking horrified.

“Kaiju don’t lay eggs, sir. Or at least we don’t think they do, seeing as the only case of Kaiju reproduction we have to go off of is Baby Otachi, who was the outcome of something very similar to a mammalian reproduction strategy, however we all know that in itself is a rather diverse field and even some mammals can reproduce via eggs. And given the wide diversity of shapes Kaiju come in, I wouldn’t be surprised if some variations did lay eggs, for example Raiju or even Leatherback, who seem to be linked closer to reptiles in their build, though there was no reproductive system recovered from them. Besides if there were any Kaiju eggs in the place I think the best place for them would be down in my lab. Can you imagine, we would be able to understand so much more the actual productive sequence, and--”

“Alright, doc,” the Marshall held up his hand in defeat, “just a joke, eh. Bloody eggs taste like they could be from a fucking sea monster, though.” He gave Newton a quirk with his eyebrows. Newt shut his mouth, looking down into his eggs, effectively shut up. Tendo laughed, clapping Newt on the back.

“It’s stuff like that that saved the world, brother.” He smiled, raising his orange juice as if to toast.

“Please forgive Dr. Geiszler, he tends to get a little excited about Kaiju reproduction, though I’m assured you already knew that.” Hermann had the gall to look bemused.

Newton shot him a look, thinking very loudly in his direction, ** _thanks man, I really appreciate your support_**.

_**Of course**_ , he felt Hermann think back, with a quirk of the eyebrows, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he was actually hearing what the man was thinking or if his mind was doing a very good impression given the circumstances. Every once in a while he would hear little quips from Hermann in his mind, though they hadn’t tested the phenomenon in an actual scientific study, so he didn’t bring it up. He was fairly certain Hermann could do the same; hear his thoughts from time to time. He definitely acted like it, and it wouldn’t be that much more of a step to think that perhaps their strange drift had bonded their minds to that point. They could already feel each other’s emotions, which was a strange disjointed feeling that Newt still hadn’t gotten used to. Sometimes he was grateful for it; it had brought them to a deeper understanding of each other, and they didn’t fight nearly as much. But at times he felt _too close_ , and it didn’t help that he was waking every night from nightmares and Hermann was the only one who seemed to help--

“--however I’m assured Dr. Geizsler would be happy to help,” Hermann was talking, and Newt looked up to see all three of his tablemates staring at him, waiting on some sort of response to a question he hadn’t heard. He looked to Hermann, lost. Hermann seemed to know that he had spaced out, adding, “with the tour from the defence board that is coming through the labs today.” **_Honestly, Newton, try to pay attention_**.

“Uhh, yeah, of course,” He smiled, looking between Herc, Tendo, and Hermann, **_thanks man...again_**. “why are they coming through, again?”

Hermann rubbing his temple, and Herc leaned back in his chair, sighing, which only meant that the question had already been asked. Well, shit, they already knew he wasn’t the best at the whole concentration thing, really they shouldn’t say anything important if he’s looking anywhere but at their face. Or even when he’s starting right at their face but has been for a long time and has a sort of lost expression. Optimally they should keep important facts down to bite sized pieces of info because these long drawn out conversations really weren’t his style unless it was about something exciting, like the hivemind complex or the theory of why more Kaijus didn’t have wings or _**shit** he’s doing it again, spacing out while the Marshall is talking--_

“--a new direction with K-Science. Now we don’t need to know the how of these monsters, but the why, and more so, how we can prevent something like this from happening in the future,” Hansen leaned forward against the table, looking years older than he had six months ago, “before we were looking on how to defeat the Kaiju. Now we want to know what exactly they were, how they thought, how they breathed, how they _shagged_ , and how to get them to bleed to death before their pinky toe can get out of the Breach next time.” Newt decided not to tell him that a whole lot of Kaiju biology was already known through tedious dissection so that Jaegers knew where to hit and how hard. Not a lot of people knew what he did down there in the lab all day, anyways, even the Marshall. At least Stacker had the courtesy to seem like he cared a little bit. Hansen was too busy picking up the pieces of a war torn world to be interested in whether or not Kaiju laid eggs.

“Sir, the Breach has been closed for good, there won’t be a next time,” Hermann said, jaw tight. Herc gave him a withering look.

“Well then, use your imagination and pretend it can. That’s what the Board of Defence really wants, anyways.”

 

"They've been putting the pressure on all of us, they want us locked and loaded. I think they know something else is coming." Tendo added, skewing a hard boiled egg with his fork. **  
**

 

"Peacetime to be put to use making things better for when it happens again. An’ the way I see it, if those bastards could get through once, what is stopping them from doing it again?”

“Science,” Newt said, feeling the Kaiju inside him shiver and move at the mention of the Breach reopening. It throbbed, as if knowing he was scared, as if it relished in the information that even Marshall Herc Hansen’s greatest fear was their return.

**_and we will return. Up f rom the water rise a nd on land w e will conquer. We w ill find you and d estr oy you for what you’ve done, we will escape the cold  d a rk place and raze what should be ours to th e gr o un d_ **

****

“--really should be getting to work, anyways,” Someone was touching his wrist, yanking him up out of the seat. Newton blindly followed, blinking but not seeing until he was pulled by the arm halfway across the mess hall. Hermann was grasping his arm a little too tightly, dragging Newt along while his cane clacked loudly against the tile floor. His expression was tight until they got out into the hallway, where he pushed Newt into a small alcove, hissing, “Newton?”

It sounded more like he was searching for him than staring right at him. Hermann's face relaxed in relief when Newton replied.

“Yeah, I was fine until you got your death grip on my arm. Goddamn, dude, do you work out without me knowing, because I’m pretty sure I’ve lost all sensation in my left arm now,” Newt leaned against the wall, but his legs were still shaking and betrayed him, letting him slide down to the floor. He rubbed his arm, looking up to Hermann, “was that...bad?”

“If you call stopping mid sentence to take special interest in your cutlery, particularly the knife, ‘bad’, then yes, Newton, it was very bad,” his sour expression gave way to one of worry and fear. He rubbed his temple, sighing, “that was it again, wasn’t it? The Kaiju.”

  
“Didn’t like the mention of the B...of it reopening,” Newt shuddered, leaning his head back against the wall. The thing inside shuddered in tandem, but it felt more like a flex, like it was testing itself, “remember when I said it was a two way street? You’d think with...it closed, it would sever the bond and we would have just a redundant fraction left over. I suppose that would be worse. Can you imagine having a disembodied, outdated version of a connected system taking up board in the back of your head? But I don’t think that’s what this is. I think they can still hear us. I think they know we’re scared of it reopening,” he looked to Hermann, offering a weak smile, “but I don’t think they know how to reopen it yet...and they’re taking their frustration out on me.”  


	3. The Piano is not Firewood Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some members of the Board of Defence come to the Lab to inspect the place, and offer Newt a deal that is very, very hard to refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is unbeta'd, so please forgive me any spelling errors and what not. I hope the pace is picking up a bit! Comments and the like are greatly appreciated as they are my lifeblood.

 

“I can’t help but think that they have a malicious intent,” Hermann was saying, pacing back and forth on his side of the lab, while Newt pulled out a folder containing documentation of a Kaiju skin cell. With the closing of the Breach came the end of new samples, and though he did have a catalogue of Kaiju parts still frozen or floating in bottles, they were far too fragile this far out to be dissected. Most of Newt’s work these days was based off of photos or diagrams, which was less messy but also a whole lot less fun.

 

“Of course they have a malicious intent, dude, it’s a fucking Kaiju. They came here to raze the planet of all life.” Newt began flipping through pages in the folder, looking for a specific photo that clearly showed how the cell broke down when exposed to certain chemicals.

 

“I meant the Board of Defense,” Hermann said pointedly, stopping his pacing to stare at Newt, “I needn’t remind you they have been very close to shutting down our divisions before the war, now that there’s nothing to crawl out of the deep to bother us, I wouldn’t be surprised if they terminate our jobs completely.”

 

“I doubt it, I mean there’s still so much to learn about these bastards, and so much more you could do to improve the Jaeger and the Pons system, and...well,” he leaned back, pushing up his falling glasses, “y’know, seeing if the Breach really could reopen.”

 

“Well, I don’t need to think hard about that, the answer is, of course, yes. There is an infinite possibility that the Breach could reopen in a different time and space, seeing as the Precursors opened it once. Granted we did blow them to smithereens with an atomic bomb, but they exist on a different time plane than we do. What could be six months for us could be eons for them, or visa-versa,” He sighed, turning and staring at his chalkboards, seemingly getting lost in the numbers for a moment before turning back to look at Newton when the disconnected feeling of his lab partner in the back of his head started pulsing, “Newton?”

 

Newt had his hands braced tightly against the desk, leaning over with his head pressed against the metal, “yeah ix-nay on the reach-bay, dude, please. They keep getting all excited every time someone brings up the idea.”

 

"Apologies," Hermann said through clenched teeth. His face was a clenched mix of analytical and worried. Newton hated it.

 

"I'm fine dude. I mean I'm going to have to live with this, right? So I might as well start getting used to it."

 

"That doesn't mean I can't be sympathetic towards your ailments." Hermann turned back around to face his chalkboard, fishing out a piece of chalk from his coat, "especially since I know for a fact that you are sympathetic towards mine."

 

"Well, yeah, you're like in constant pain and I worked with you for years and didn't even _know_ , of course I'm going to be sympathetic after feeling that through the drift!" He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, "besides that's a little different. Like, chronic pain versus an alien being taking over my brain--which, may I add, only happens sometimes and is something I can totally deal with on my own and you don't need to worry about."

 

"You seem to forget that you weren't the only one who drifted with a Kaiju," Hermann said, not bothering to look over his shoulder yet somehow Newt knew he was rolling his eyes, "have you ever given thought that perhaps I'm experiencing the same problems?"

 

Newt went quiet for a moment because, honestly, he _hadn't_ given it any thought, which just added to the list of Things about Hermann he had somehow not noticed over the years because, honestly, he wasn't the most observant person. When it came to weird Kaiju brain things he always felt like he was suffering alone and that of course Hermann wouldn't be getting weird brain stuff because he was a lot more neurotypical than Newt in the first place. But it would make sense if Hermann was getting Kaiju vibes, too, seeing as the man had shared a brain space with the thing, even if the neural load had been a little less--

 

"Well, I haven't been, Newton, don't look so upset. Not to the extent that you have been, seemingly," Hermann gave him a look over his shoulder after Newt didn't respond in a socially acceptable amount of time, "though I can feel some...things, I am unsure if it is residual through the Drift with you or if our three-way with a Kaiju had any lasting effect on myself."

 

"Please never say 'three-way with a Kaiju' again," Newt said dryly. **_I might pop a boner next_ time** , he thought, showing extreme restraint by keeping it to himself. His love for Kaiju was something that was so obsessive that it was often misinterpreted. Though if the face Hermann was now pulling was anything to go by, he probably caught it through the Drift anyways, "c'mon dude, I was joking! Also, can you quit reading my thoughts? I'm pretty sure it breaks like seven different workplace harassment codes."

 

Hermann _harumphed_ , waving his hand at Newton as if he could shoo the thoughts away, "I'm not _reading your thoughts_ , and it is not my problem that your mind is like a loudspeaker that I can't turn off."

 

Newt cheered, sitting up straighter, “So you are reading my thoughts!”

 

“No! I am not,” Hermann  leaned heavily against his cane, gesticulating with chalk still in hand, “now can we drop the subject and focus on the matter on hand? More specifically the fact that the Board of Defense is coming through to inspect our work and deem it acceptable that we continue to serve at this institution? Perhaps you should take the time to clean your side a little, it looks as if a tornado struck your half of the laboratory.”

 

“I am an artist, I have my things organized _artistically_.”  
  


“You’re a biologist.”

 

“No, one of my doctorates was in Fine Arts,” Newt said matter-of-factly, “thought it was a Fine Arts and Music double and really I was just in it for the hot TA and I was waiting for some paperwork from the Neuroscience department at MIT to get back to be about early submissions. Don’t tell anyone but it was totally the easiest out of all of them.”

 

“You don’t need to tell me, I can recall it myself,” Hermann rolled his eyes, “either way I’m entirely certain the state of affairs on that side of the room would get you some sort of suspension for biohazard risk.”

 

“Oh please, I don’t even have any biohazards over here anymore,” Newt retorted, waving the folder of photos above his head with a frown, “just papers. Luckily photographs don’t rot. And don’t think you’ve deftly sidestepped our scientific analysis of mind-reading, which I still totally is a thing you can do, and I’m pretty sure that’s not a normal Drift thing. Actually I know it’s not normal, but it’s useless to speculate without hard evidence and a scientific study so that’s exactly what we’re doing once these Board of Defense lackeys leave.” He pointed his finger at Hermann, hoping to convey an air of seriousness that he was often lacking.

Hermann rolled his eyes _again_ , wordlessly turning back to his work. Newt eyed the back of his head for a few more seconds, then turned back to his desk, half-heartedly shuffling around his papers into what was a more conventional sense of order, ignoring the low rumblings of his other drift partner at the back of his skull.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Board of Defense didn’t show up until about 4:00pm, ( _or 1600hrs, Newton, you’ve lived on base for years now why can’t you just admit military time is an easier concept for everyone_ ), which meant Newton had enough time to talk himself into at least two near panic attacks. This was, coincidentally the same amount of times Hermann was able to talk him down from one. It wasn’t that Newt thought he would get fired, which seemed to be what Hermann was afraid of. He was much more worried about what the BoD might want to keep him for.

 

There were four of them all together who marched in rows of two; Herc was in front, his face gray and his mouth slightly downturned. Beside him was a woman with dark eyes and dark hair pulled back tightly around her angular face. Behind her was a short, stout Italian man, whose glare seemed fixed onto Newton in a way that made him turn down his music instantly. He stood in tandem with a tall, dark skinned man who was carrying a clipboard which was apparently way more interesting than anything going on in the lab, because he hadn’t looked up from whatever was being scribbled on it since the four arrived.

 

Of course as soon as they stopped in the middle of the lab, straddling the line between Hermann’s side and Newt’s, Hermann was already standing at attention giving Hansen a swift salute. Newt was a little slower, moseying around his desk, giving Herc a lazy salute out of sheer principle. He was watching the three newcomers, stuffing his hands into his pockets to appear as aloof and casual as possible.

 

“Good afternoon, Drs., may I introduce you to Ms. Le, Mr. Petrelli, and Mr. Duncan from the Board of Defense,” Herc gestured to each in turn before folding his hands behind his back, “as you may know the Board of Defense is a core group within the PPDC who make the big decisions around here when it comes to what we should be doing with our time and money. These kind folks will be looking around and asking you some questions before taking the intel back to a committee who will decide exactly what the Hong Kong Shatterdome as well as Shatterdomes all around the world will be doing for the indefinite future.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Hermann nodded, giving a polite bow. Newt attempted a weak smile. He never did like talking to higher ups. He would rather have them subjugate him from a far away board room than seeing them crawling around in his space, while he stood attention like a trained monkey. Of course Hermann would make comparisons to public speaking, saying ‘ ** _mein gott, Newton, you have given hundreds of lectures to filled auditoriums, surely showing a few board executives what you’ve been doing while hiding in this basement for months would come easily to you_** ’ to which he would reply, ‘ ** _no, it’s not even on the same plane of existence, dude. Being in front of an auditorium full of knowledge hungry students or a theater full of super excited fans is totally different than having some dude with seriously beady eyes watch you compare sample slides of kaiju eye fibers for ten minutes with the most deadpan look possible while still probably still having a pulse. Don’t even start with me, man, a lecture is like a performance. This is like being looked at under a microscope._** ’ To which theoretical-Hermann would most likely have a reply but real-life-Herman had just nudged him in the side, pulling Newt back to the present, where the short Italian (Mr. Petrelli?) was talking rather animatedly.  

 

“Of course the average citizen is paranoid. As much as they have confidence that the Kaiju are gone, they need to be assured that the PPDC is working just as hard as ever to make sure they are gone for good. That’s what we need you two for. Your efforts during the war were crucial, and even more so now. We need to get the Jaegers working better than ever, and we need to know everything about these bastards so when they come back, we will not be spending ten years and thousands of lives figuring out how to send them back from where they came from.”

 

“Uh, if,” Newt said, quietly, immediately regretting the decision, “if they come back. The Breach is closed, we haven’t had an incident in six months. Dr. Gottlieb figured out how to collapse the Breach and I figured out how to send the bomb through to blow them up. I don’t think they’ll be coming back, uh, sir.” He could feel the weight of Mr. Petrelli’s eyes on him, shrinking back towards Hermann’s sturdy figure.

 

“I do not like to deal with ‘ifs’, Dr. Geiszler. Let’s make this simpler for everyone and work as if they’re knocking on our door again.” He had his hands folded behind his back but crossed them, now, cracking his knuckles. Ms. Le cleared her throat, looking to Newton.

 

“We are just going to be asking you some questions about your current research so we can find a new objective that is good for everyone.” She nodded, shifting her gaze to Herc, who nodded back. Mr. Duncan was still scowling at his clipboard.

 

“So carry on business as usual, Drs. I have a few more things to discuss with the group, but we will be with you shortly.”

 

Newt nodded and Hermann gave another stiff salute, before swivelling Newt around and pulling him away by the arm for the second time that day, “Need I remind you to be on your best behaviour?”

 

“C’mon, dude, I've got this covered," he said, trying to smile, while glancing over his shoulder, "is it just me or is the short dude staring at me. I think he has it out for me, Herms, honestly. If he comes over to my side starts cackling madly I'm gonna need you to hit him with your cane while we escape."

 

"Somehow I am not surprised that you're able to turn a five foot Italian man into a Bondian villain. He's just doing his job. Now go do yours and we'll be fine." He placed a hand on Newt's shoulder and awkwardly patted it, before turning and nearly marching back to his spot in front of his chalkboards.

 

**_We'll both be fine, and maybe after I'll let you run some quantitative tests of this ability we seem to have_** , Newt heard the last bit in the back of his head and snorted. Looking back over his shoulder at Herman,  narrowing his eyes with a grin.

 

"I _knew_  it! I'm going to hold you accountable for that!" He called, flopping down at his desk, "you won't evade me again!"

 

"Surely I have no idea what you're talking about." Hermann retorted without turning, but Newt knew he was grinning. Herms always looked the best while smiling; he did it so little you'd think the muscles in his face would have lost all function. Over the last six months Newt was able to coax out more smiles than the previous nine years put together. He wasn’t sure if that was because of the Drift, or just because the apocalypse wasn’t constantly breathing down their necks. **_Sure, the apocalypse was cancelled but we still have these suits hovering over us._**

 

He slumped down lower in his desk chair, doing a spin (he had only just re-aquired a proper desk chair with wheels after Marshall Stacker confiscated them for ‘misuse’), before picking up a folder again and thumbing through it. Honestly, he couldn’t do any real work when Mr. Petrelli was still staring at him from across the room.

 

Ms. Le was talking to Hermann with Herc, though Herc kept his mouth mostly closed, nodding every few minutes. Mr. Petrelli was with Mr. Duncan poking through the freezers, murmuring to each other every time they pulled out a drawer to find it empty.

 

Newt sauntered over, stuffing his hands in his pockets and trying to look as cool as possible, “y’know, with the Kaiju gone, we don’t get much action down here anymore.” Mr. Petrelli’s eyebrows skyrocketed, and Newt hastily added, “I mean, we don’t really have any good samples anymore. Most things that we have are too fragile after being in formalin for several months--which, by the way, is total BS, we should really be using isopropyl or ethyl alcohol, but I guess no one really thought about the long terms effects of formaldehyde when we were all going to die, anyways.”

 

“Will that inhibit your work, Dr. Geiszler?” Mr. Duncan asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was deep and heavily accented with a Kenyan accent. Newt shook his head no, smiling weakly.

 

“No, no, I, uh, we--myself and several other K-Scientists around the world--took pretty good photos and reports and other types of documentation. I mean, really, we’re much better off than paleontology or any other type of cryptozoologist. We know a whole lot more about Kaiju than your friendly neighbourhood dinosaur, so--”

 

“Cryptozoology is not a real field of study, Dr. Geiszler,” Mr. Duncan said. Newt shrivelled a little.

 

“Uh, yeah, I know, but they try real hard, and that’s the important part, right? And call me Newt, please. Everyone calls me that but Hermann, but he’s a stickler for formality, uh,” He rubbed at the back of his head, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in Hermann’s general direction, “so, I’m here to answer any questions you guys got for me.”

 

“I’ve read several of your reports since K-Day, Dr. Geiszler,” Mr. Petrelli was staring him down with those beady little eyes. Newt wasn’t used to people staring up at him, and stared at the freezer behind Petrelli’s head, instead, “you have several times written that you drifted with a Kaiju. Can you confirm this?”

 

“Uh, yes, I thought by now that was pretty common knowledge, especially since I specifically wrote in my report 'I drifted with a Kaiju'. That’s how we realized they work in a Hivemind, and how they need a genetic marker to enter and exit the Breach.”

 

“Is it true that, after your first drift with Mutavore, Otachi was able to locate you in a Hong Kong underground bunker? As if it knew to find you.”

 

“I assume she did know to come find me,” Newt said, feeling panic claw at his throat as his mind replayed that night. _**I w ill hunt you down and find you, you ar e an i nsect, crawling on your hands and knees, you ca nnot esc ape**_ , “Drifting with someone transfers information between partners, that’s how Jaeger pilots can control one machine with two brains and two separate hemispheres. When an action jumps hemispheres, or partners, the information is passed. It’s a shared brainspace. Same thing with the Kaiju, they got information about me, and Otachi followed the directive given to hunt me down. If you think about it, I was an alien in their brain structure. I’m sure we would have done the same thing if it were reversed.” He bunched his hands into fists where they were buried in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

 

“Then, is it possible they can read any information from you, now?” Petrelli’s eyes bore through his skull. Newt looked over his shoulder, wishing Hermann was there to save him. He could feel the panic rising, like a current threatening to pull him under. **_No, no, I got this under control. I'm a goddamn rockstar_**. He shrugged, looking back to Petrelli.

 

“No. A Drift bond only lasts a few hours, let alone months. Even if they were able to get anything from me outside of the Drift itself, now that the Breach is closed, the distance is even greater between us. I don’t think a headspace can be maintained across long distances...or across universes.” He said, almost believing himself it it were for the throb in the back of his head. He could feel Hermann turn to look at him, feel some sort of residual fear that they would be found out, but the man was still tied up by Ms. Le and Hansen.

 

“Very good, it would compromise your position within the PPDC, as I’m sure you’re aware, if you were slowly siphoning information to our greatest enemies.”

 

"Uh...yeah."

 

“Dr. Geiszler, you also hypothesized in your report that the Kaiju follow a ‘directive’ set forth to them by the Precursors, essentially their creators, which is sent through the Hivemind as a command to be follow. Is that correct?” Mr. Duncan asked, eyes still on his clipboard. It was then that Newt noticed one of his reports was pinned to the board, large chunks of text having been highlighted or outlined in red.

 

“Yes. the Precursors are the ones who create the Kaiju; that’s why they’re all clones. The Precursors are the real enemies, the Kaiju are just the ones doing their dirty work.”

 

“Do you know if the Kaiju are able to directly communicate back to the Precursors?” He has staring at Newt now, and Newt felt the Drift Kaiju shudder. **_Yes, b ond between us, information sent ba ck to Them to see..._**

 

“Yes, that’s how they make their tactical decisions. They know how to beat a Jaeger by what it died screaming. They knew when to terraform and when to eradicate us and how, based not just by trial and error, but by information being sent back to the whole from a scout on a suicide mission...” he scratched at the back of his head, looking down at his feet. The Drift that was the Kaiju in his mind throbbed, and images poured through, small memories and assurances and facts that he knew but hadn’t learned himself through science, “they were able to communicate through the Breach, it’s a connection deeper than a Drift. A lot of people, myself even, have compared the Hivemind to a Drift with multiple people, but that’s not correct...it’s one mind, split into parts with a higher connection...” he frowned, remembering as Mutavore what it was like to be connected to the Hivemind, remembering the directive given to Otachi, remembering the cry of the Precursors in reply to the death of Otachi’s baby. ** _Our directive w as t o hunt and k ill but now i t is to use._**

 

“Then it is not a stretch to assume that someone connected to the Hivemind could send information back, perhaps even set a new directive,” Newt suddenly realized Petrelli was talking, now fishing through his suit jacket for something. He pulled out a business card, handing it to Newton, “have you heard of the Finestra Initiative, Dr. Geiszler?”

 

Newt stared at the card, brows knit, “no, are they by the same dudes who made the Wall of Life, because if so I don’t think it’s going to work. _Finestra_? The Window Initiative? What’s next, the Door to Hell? The Kitchen Sink Plan?”

 

“It would do you well not to insult those who are in charge of your employment,” Petrelli said, cracking his knuckles in a way that was almost too cliche. Newton nodded, taking a second glance at the card.  It was small, white, with dull gray lettering with only a number on the front, and the word ‘ _Finestra_ ’ on the back. Petrelli continued, while stuffed the business card into the pocket of his jeans, “The Finestra Intiative is a proposal being put forward by the Board of Defense as a possible ‘option B’ to this post war world. We could really use a man, a scientist, of your caliber working on this with us. We, of course, would make it worth your while. Let us use a little of your brain power and maybe we could find some room in the budget for a few more of the increasingly rare Kaiju samples, hm? Sound like a deal?” Petrelli and Duncan had moved, shifting slightly in front of Newton so that his back was pressed against the freezer and the two were blocking any sort of getaway. Not that Newton felt like initiating his fight-or-flight reflex, because he has got this _under control_ , of course. He laughed nervously.

 

“What do you mean ‘brain power’?” Newt looked up wearily. He wished Hermann was there with him instead.

 

“Why don’t you stop by our offices for a little orientation and we’ll settle all the details,” Petrelli smiled in a way that didn’t touch his eyes, “if you’re not interested...well, in your report you also mentioned that Dr. Gottlieb accompanied you in your second drift. We, of course, would love to have your expertise but if you’re unwilling....” Newt felt his stomach twist, his head throb, and his skin go ice cold all at once. **_No_**.

 

Newton was a lot of things, egotistical, erratic, short-sighted, maybe a little crazy. But he was not dumb. He knew these guys were up to no good; hell, Petrelli even looked like every single mafia bad guy Newt had ever seen in the movies. He wasn’t sure exactly what they wanted from him; ‘brainpower’ was laughably suspicious, it could involve anything from purely academic collaboration to something a bit more invasive. He knew he didn’t want Hermann involved.

 

Newt was already broken, but Hermann could walk away from everything still capable of functioning like a real human being. He could go on from the PPDC back to Oxford or Berlin or really anywhere because he’s a badass scientist and one of the coolest dudes on earth, if you can get past the scowl and ugly haircut. But Newton...well he was being haunted by the ghosts of a dead Kaiju. **_Really, what could they do to me that can make things worse?_** No, they couldn’t take Hermann. Hermann had a future, he couldn’t let them do whatever it is they wanted to do, and to take that away from him--

  
“No, no no, don’t worry, you don’t have to ask Hermann. I’ll help you guys, just...when can I meet you?”


	4. Ne me Quittez Pas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako and Raleigh arrive back from a promo tour that was totally needless. Newton and Hermann test the theory that they do, in fact, have superpowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'll state the obvious first: I really am no math major. I have no idea what that mess of numbers even means. For people on mobile, what Hermann writes is this: https://joyandgravity.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/math-problem-thumb.gif?w=460
> 
> Nothing really exciting happens in this chapter. But the good news is that everything exciting will happen next chapter! I've never written Mako or Raleigh before so sorry in advance. Please leave comments telling me how I did! thank you <3

"See, that was not nearly as bad as you had speculated." Hermann was saying, sipping tea so hot it was fogging up his glasses. They were back in the mess hall, crowded into a table with some Jaeger mechanics, hunched over some brownish slop that was meant to be food.

 

"No, I guess not," Newt replied, prodding his plate of formless brown substance, "though I will remind you most of my hypotheses turn out to be correct proven theories in time."

 

"And I will remind you that blatant paranoia is not the same as a hypothesis."

 

"Whatever, man." Newt was tired. After he had agreed to a deal with Mr. Petrelli, they exchanged handshakes, a stern nod, and Petrelli had Mr. Duncan write something down on his clipboard.

 

"I'm glad you're considering this option," Petrelli said, "Fenestra is looking forward to your cooperation. Please, meet us this time tomorrow beside Ribcage Cafe in the Bone Slums."

 

Then they had turned, giving Ms. Le a nod. Mr. Duncan cleared his throat, striding with long legs across the lab while Petrelli had to scuttle to keep up, "Dr. Geizsler is doing good work, we are have enough to bring forward to the board."

 

"Perfect. I am content with Dr. Gottlieb's progress, as well. Thank you, Marshall Hansen, Drs, I believe we will take our leave now."

 

They all bowed to each other, and Hermann have Herc an awkward salute, and the four outsiders left the lab.

 

It had all-in-all taken about twenty minutes. Hermann got Newt some coffee because he 'looked fit to pass out,' and the pair had gone back to work for several more hours until Hermann suggested dinner.

 

Newt's hands were still shaking. He hadn't done any actual for the few hours since the Board of Defense left. Most of his time and energy had been put towards figuring out what exactly the BoD would want with him--it couldn't be just his Kaiju knowledge, or even just knowledge about the Drift or the Hivemind, or they could have just read his reports or just talked to him then and there. Maybe that was all they wanted, and the Fenestra initiative was something that would go on mostly without Newton. Besides, these were the same guys behind the Wall of Life, which was such an utter failure their sequel couldn't be much more effective. If anything it would be dangerous in the way of losing funds from the PPDC, rather than any physical danger to Newt, which is what he was mostly afraid of because Mr. Duncan looked like he could beat the shit out of him.

 

The other half of his time and resources had been spent trying to conceal his absolute panic from Hermann--this was harder to do as the man liked to mentally eavesdrop on Newton under normal circumstances. He must have known Newt was in total freak out mode about something--after all he had gotten him coffee without making any sort of jab about the superiority of tea, and Newt caught him eyeing him from across the room at least three times. But as far as he could tell, Newt was doing a pretty good job at keeping Hermann out of his head. He could see the man trying to work out what exactly was wrong. He could nearly hear the cogs turning at lightening speed in his head, and still coming up with nothing but 'Newton is panicking about something and I'm not sure what it is.' Which, granted, happened pretty often.

 

"Oh, come off it," Hermann scowled, setting down his mug with perhaps a little too much force than socially acceptable, "there's something bothering you, I can tell. Something that those men from the DoB said to you. Newton, God help me, if--"

 

"Just leave it, Herms, I'm not a baby," he held up a hand, waving Hermann away while the other man's expression soured, "we've been over this once already today. I'm not your fucking responsibility, man. I can take care of myself."

 

"Apparently." Hermann said curtly, jaw locking. He stared down at his plate. Newt suddenly felt terrible.

 

"Oh, c'mon, you can't get angry at me for that!  For wanting some autonomy! You can't just go nine years of not giving a shit about me to suddenly breathing down my neck just because we drifted, friendships don't work like that!" He could feel his voice getting higher and louder, ignoring the few times it cracked and the engineers who were now staring at them.

 

Silence spanned between them. Newt looked from Hermann's face--he could see the muscles in his jaw working and the vein above his temple pulsing ever so slightly--to his food, to his own hands, studying the inky tendrils that slithered down onto his wrist, the frays of his Yamarashi tattoo. The connection with the Kaiju inside him pulsed at the memory.

  
  


"I have always _cared_  for you, Newton, I never hated you," Hermann finally replied quietly. Newt's heart skipped a beat and he hated it. Hermann was opening his mouth to make what he said worse when the pair was interrupted.

 

"Good evening, Dr. Geiszler, Dr. Gottlieb. Do you mind if we sit with you?" It was Mako Mori, holding a food tray and looking very tired. Raleigh was behind her, craning his neck around the hall as if sniffing out danger. Newt smiled.

 

"Of course, Mako. And how many times do I gotta tell you to call me Newt?"

 

"Oh, I know," Mako echoed his smile, placing her tray down beside his, "but seeing your face every time I 'forget' is so funny!"

 

"I have to agree with you on that one, Ms. Mori," Hermann said with a thinned lip smile as Raleigh fell into the seat next to him with a tired _ouf_.

 

"Aren't you two meant to be on that press tour until..." Newt looked at his watch, growing at the date, "oh, it is July, isn't it?"

 

"Six long months of interviews, galas, panels, and photoshoots." Raleigh rolled his eyes.

 

Mako laughed, "it was really quite repetitive, wasn't it?"

 

"Just absolutely redundant."

 

"How many times did we have to go over the last fight? Maybe one hundred times?"

 

"I would say close to two," Raleigh speared a piece of broccoli with his fork, popping it in his mouth, "you guys only had about a month of that press stuff, right?"

 

"Yeah, the world doesn't care as much about the guys behind the scenes making it all work. You guys are the face of the apocalypse win, of course they're gonna wanna know all about you." Newt pushed up his glasses, watching the way Mako and Raleigh moved together like two parts of one unit. He had seen them on TV a few times, and it was almost eerie. He wondered if they could hear each other's thoughts sometimes, or not, since theirs was a way more normal drift. Still, the similarities, the way they know what the other wanted to do before they did it...

 

_**It's still an untested theory.** _

 

He nearly jumped when he heard Hermann's voice in his head, turning to silently glare at the man from across the table. Hermann paid him no mind, chatting to Raleigh now about something boring. Maybe he had just thought he had heard Hermann. Maybe this whole time it wasn't actually Hermann communicating but rather just a hyper realistic imitation in his mind, or perhaps just a really good predictive sense, which is something that Drift partners learn over time, anyways, as clearly seen in the case of Raleigh and Mako.

 

"So, how have you been, the last six months? I know you emailed me a few times but..."

 

"You kinda suck at emails, just saying," Mako started and Raleigh finished, both giving Newt a mirrored sly smile. Hermann made a weird noise that sounded somewhat like a snort.

 

"I don't _suck at emails_!" Newt cried out in fake indignation, clasping a hand to his heart, "I just like to use a lot of words, and in the case of emails I feel slightly limited in space, so I tend to...not write them."

 

"It's not Twitter, you don't have a word limit, Newt!" Mako jabbed him in the side with the end of her spoon. Raleigh's eyebrows raised.

 

"Man, I haven't thought of Twitter in at least a decade."

 

"Yes, well, the world moved on from hearing incessant noise about people's dinners and the size of their most recent defecates." Hermann rolled his eyes, "I believe Twitter was bought by Kaijudate in 2018."

 

"I bet your Kaijudate profile was excellent, Hermes," Newt snorted, wondering vaguely why Hermann even knew that fact, "I miss Twitter. That's where most of the world found out an alien had emerged from the sea, after all. Mass social media had its role in information distribution. Now everything is so dystopian, and militarized. Everything on the internet used to be a shade of blue. Now everything is dark gray or that awful green colour, or...well Kaijudate is blue, but I'm assuming it's because the whole theme of the place is Kaiju related and the blue is the same shade of Kaiju blue, anyways. Did you know not all Kaiju bleed the same blue?" He looked up from where he was stabbing around his plate. Raleigh was looking like a lost puppy, but that was nothing new. Mako had a polite smile on her face, but she looked so tired the effect was lost to a degree, and Hermann was staring at him with a sour face tinged slightly with worry, "what?"

 

"Nothing at all!!" Mako said, while Raleigh cleared his throat.

 

"We're just a little tired. Landed last night, still a big jet lagged from Australia." He smiled apologetically, "actually, we have a few things to talk to the Marshall about, so...maybe we should get going?" He looked to Mako, who was already standing up, sliding their trays and half-eaten food together.

 

"Okay, uh, I'll see you later, then." Newt frowned. He waved them goodbye as Mako bowed and Raleigh gave a salute, then the pair was disappearing into the crowded mess hall, walking in sync, "I didn't say anything weird, did I?"

 

"No more than usual," Hermann sounded tired, as well, his fingers steepled, "don't think you've eluded me, Dr, Geizsler."

 

"Excuse me, but you are the one trying to elude me. When are we going to test the mind reading thing?"

 

"Well, if you insist...I do have some time at the moment to devote to foolish theories." He smirked, "unfounded theories."

 

"Stop lying, Herms, we both know it's happening," he stood, taking both their trays so fast he wobbled a little, “in fact we are _robbing_ the scientific community by not reporting on this fact! Imagine what kind of breakthroughs our minds together could come up with!”

 

“We already are a teamed pair in the labs. Forgive me if I am hesitant to allude to the fact that our shared space has become more than just our workspace,” Hermann grumbled, unhooking his cane from the back of his chair and following Newt through the crowd, “just as you have things you’d rather not bring to light with the authorities.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. That’s the reason I’ve never really pushed to explore it until now, really. But...we don’t have to bring it up to anyone. It could just be for us,” He dumped the uneaten food into a garbage bin and dropped the empty trays into the ‘return’ window. It doesn’t look like a whole lot of people finished their meals, “people already want to dissect my brain, no need to give them any more ammo right?”

 

“I suppose not,” They made their way out of the mess hall, down the significantly less crowded hallways. Hermann stopped when they came to a fork, jerking his head left while Newt started right, “why don’t we do this in our quarters? Like you said, just between us. There are cameras in the lab.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Newton nodded, mostly because he didn’t want to cause any conflict, for once, “no one watches those cameras, and you know it. I think they stopped caring three years ago. I mean I was able to wheel all your chalkboards out onto the roof through the freight elevator and nobody stopped me.”

 

“Yes, well, as I recall I stopped you, as you had misjudged how long my lunch meeting with the Marshall and the Head Engineer would take, and I caught you in the elevator.”

 

“Yeah, fuck man, I thought I was going to cause a heart attack,” he clapped Hermann on the shoulder, “irresponsible of me at the time. After all, shouldn’t you be avoiding high stress situations at your age?”

 

“My age? Newton I am a _year_ older than you!” He narrowed his eyes as they rounded the corner to their hallway, “and there was very important information on those boards at the time, if it had begun to rain--”

 

“I know, I know,” Newt fished the key fob out of his pocket, waving it just above the knob before pushing the heavy door open, holding it for Hermann, then following him into their conjoined kitchenette, “what a difference a year makes, eh? Am I going to be as curmudgeonly as you are in a year?”

 

“Hopefully, maybe then you will learn some manners.” Hermann stood by the door, leaning on his cane, analysing the space. Thanks to Newton’s ‘artistic’ organizational skills, their place always looked like some form of natural disaster had torn through it, despite Hermann’s best efforts. Their mugs from the early morning still sat unwashed by the sink, and the door to Newt’s quarters was left open, revealing an even more disastrous situation. It was a miracle Hermann didn’t break a leg tripping over some anime figurine or the mountain of terrible band t-shirts that littered the floor on his way to Newt’s side every night.

 

“I have _manners_ ,” Newt evacuated his pockets onto the little table, already making a mess. He flopped down into one of the chairs, before springing up again and rushing into his room, “you shoulda seen me with those dudes today, man. ‘Yes sir’s and ‘please’ and ‘thank you’s all over the place. Man, have you seen where my notebook is? I can’t find it.”

 

Hermann sat at the table, hooking his cane over the back of the chair, already rubbing his temple, “if I recall, you put it under your pillow two nights ago.”

 

“Oh...oh man, you’re right, thanks! I found it,” he popped back out of his room, a leatherbound notebook and a pen in hand, “freaky. Another annotation to add to this theory; exceptionally good at finding things I’ve lost.”

 

“Far easier to explain, however; I saw you put it there. In fact, you hide it there quite often, seeing as you usually fall asleep writing in the damn thing,” he watched Newton cross the room, throw the notebook and pens onto the table, and fall back into the chair with a yawn, “it’s not extraordinary to notice things about someone you spend quite a bit of time with.”

 

“Once again, I bring up the point that you never brought up ‘noticing things’ before.”

 

He folded his hands in front of him on the table, watching Newton flip to an empty page in the packed notebook,“I will concede that our relationship has changed, to a degree.”

 

“Like ten degrees," Newt's lips twitched into a smile, then he sighed, looking down at his notebook, adding quietly, "I mean, it's really not a bad thing, though. I personally think it's an improvement. I know I'm not blameless in the way we treated each other before, and maybe if I had a little less pride I would say sorry but, just...I mean, don't tell me you want it to go back to the way it was. Between us, mean. I dont know if I could stand you hating me, now. I know I said earlier this zero-to-sixty stuff was bullshit, but we can't go from this," he gesticulated wildly between them, "back to no conversation except bickering...unless that's what you want."

 

"No! No, I, well," He exhaled slowly, gathering his thoughts. Hermann had always liked Newt; his feelings had been much more intense than he was used to when Newt first contacted him by email, and that correspondence was still one of the most fondly remembered social interactions Hermann had ever had. Of course, their first meeting had been a disaster, and Hermann had spent the last several years begrudgingly working alongside the walking trainwreck in the dungeons under the Shatterdome. However most of his aggression towards Newt had been when provoked; Newt knew exactly the buttons to press and when to press them and Hermann knew the man got a rise out of annoying hell out of him. Truth be told he was always quite fond. Even when so furious he 'accidentally' let the formaldehyde drain from a tank and a few samples dried up, he would remember back to that initial exchange, and how his heart would flutter excitedly every time he checked his mailbox and saw a reply...the well spoken, methodical, and precise Dr. Geizsler and the manic ball of energy who drifted with a Kaiju were all facets of the same man, after all, "as I said earlier, I never disliked you. Perhaps, at times, I wanted to throw you off the roof of the Shatterdome. But you have always been my colleague and...my friend." **_If I hated you, would I have drifted with you to save your life? After all, it was all my fault..._**

 

"Man, don't say that," Newt rolled his eyes, "maybe I'm just saying that I kinda like the way we can sit at a table together and not end with an argument and a flipped table?"

 

"I believe that expanded perspective on a situation, or a person, will lead to better understanding," Hermann crossed his legs, sighing, "are we going to do this 'test'? How do you propose to actually quantify the phenomenon? We don't exactly have a control."

 

"You don't know that. We'd have to get someone who has never drifted with the other...maybe Herc and Tendo? If they let us. Maybe if we say it has something to do with actual science..."

 

"I thought you didn't want anyone privy to this 'research'?" Hermann rolled his eyes. Newt made an annoyed noise.

 

"The data will be biased without a control!"

 

"The only one you need to convince is yourself, Newton."

 

"Yeah and unfortunately I know the data is biased without a control," he drew his attention back down to his notepad, clicking the pen, "okay this is what we're gonna do. I'm going to write something on here, without you able actually see it, and then ask you if you know what it says."

 

"Hm, I'm not sure if that's how it actually works." Hermann pinched the bridge of his nose, but Newton was already scribbling away.

 

Hermann had noticed this new 'ability' almost immediately after their drift. He could, when the emotion was strong enough, feel what Newt was feeling; it was like a dull echo, a sympathetic emotion that was disjointed from what he was actually feeling. It was confusing, hard to navigate at first, because Newton was a man of intense and ever changing emotion. The man was like a loudspeaker always on maximum volume.

 

Hermann, however, was always good at squaring away emotion. He felt things very few things as intensely as Newt. He always regarded his mind like a well oiled machine; efficient and effective, and too many emotions clogged the gears. Newton was the opposite, his mind was much like his room; everything was lying everywhere, with no clear distinction between interests, or emotions. The thoughts would come through their drift bond were scattered and overwhelming to Hermann at first, but he soon found he could locate emotions that were not his own, and put them aside. He could dissect them, analyze them, study them like a complicated math problem.

 

Perhaps that's why he seemed better at picking up thoughts from Newton than Newton was at picking up his. He never actually heard words through the drift, only emotion. However,  he knew Newton inside out, now, and when the man felt something loudly enough, Hermann would pick it up through the drift and take it apart it in its efficient way, understanding what the raw feeling meant in terms of actual worded thoughts.

 

It wasn't so much mind reading as very good analysis on emotions seeping through a drift that wouldn't close.

 

Perhaps there was so much noise happening in Newt's mind, Hermann was hard to hear over everything else.

 

"Okay, well, that's what testing is for. Besides, we gotta test this now before---" he suddenly cut himself off, turning slightly ashen, and looking back down at his paper, "err, okay, what did I write?"

 

Hermann narrowed his eyes as a wave of Newt came crashing through the drift, "before tomorrow? What are you doing tomorrow? Does this have to do with those people today?"

 

"Nope, totally wrong, I didn't write any of that."

 

"I know that," Herman snapped, "you're keeping something from me."

 

"I keep loads of things from you! And I'm allowed to! That's what personal privacy means, man. Just leave it," he waved the book  in front of his face, "you said you'd test this."

 

Hermann sighed, rubbing his temple, "I believe it says 'the ninth doctor was the best'."

 

Newton squealed, flipping the paper over, where exactly that was scribbled in his illegible handwriting, "how did you do that?"

 

"I've already said, it's hard to quantify, but that is a very... _Geiszleresque_ thing to say. Lacking a better term, hyperpredictability."

 

"Okay, well, you're turn," Newt scribbled down some notes, then slid the notebook across the table, "fucking rad, man."

 

"This is absurd," he said, but took the pen from Newton anyways. With his neat writing, he wrote:

 

 

He set down his pen with a definite smirk. Newton could do math; math is half of science, after all, but guessing a polynomial function without any substantial help...it wasn't something that could simply be attributed to hyperpredictability.

 

"It has to do something with math," Newt said, blankly staring at the table, his eyes brows furrowing.

 

"I'm certain even the Marshall would be able to guess that much."

 

"Okay, shut up, I know," he moved to staring intently at the back of notebook as if he could see through it, "it's like...I am getting this feeling from you but I don't know how to express it correctly. It's not words."

 

"No, it isn't words."

 

"Here gimme the pen, I think I can write it," he held out his hand, fishing a napkin out of his pocket. Pen in hand, he started writing the equation.

 

Herman watched in stunned silence. Newton wasn't solving the equation in a normal linear fashion. He was moving across the page, filling in numbers like an artist copying a photo. He jumped across the rows, finishing full expressions in pieces, going from line one, to like three, to one then to two...he wasn't solving an equation, he was copying something he could see.

 

"Is this right?" He finally said, shoving the pen-covered napkin at Hermann, still looking confused with himself. There were a few differences; a number wrong on the third line, and an annotation missing, however it was remarkable how close he had gotten it. Hermann slid the notebook across the table, unable to hide a slight smile. Newton looked at the napkin and the initial equation side by side, "woah."

 

"Does that serve as enough evidence for your study, Dr, Geizsler?"

 

"It's definitely a persuasive argument," Newton was still scanning the duplicate problems, shaking his head, "and you said we can't read each other's minds."

 

"I will admit this is quite fascinating," He folded his hands on the table again, shifting in his seat so his weight was off his bad hip, "a crude experiment, but fascinating none the less."

 

"It just comes back like a memory of mine, or something I've done or seen before. Is it like that for you?"

 

"To an extent, like a disembodied emotion that I've never actually felt," Hermann watched while Newt scribbled down notes with a renewed fervour he hadn't seen in months, "I still reside firmly in the 'hyperpredictability' camp. I know you so well now that emotions felt through the Drift are easily translated into thoughts and words based off of reactions you've had to those emotions prior."

 

"You can't predict a mathematical equation. I don't even know what the solution to this one is."

 

"It's not an equation that has an answer," Hermann snorted, standing, “clearly not everything gets transmitted across the Drift.”

 

“No, well,” Newt pulled off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes. He was tired, “we gotta test this more. I wonder how distance effect what we pick up from each other. We already know I barely pick up anything from you unless I’m really trying hard...I wonder if physical contact helps, sort of like the physical attributes of the Pons system?”

 

“I do not agree to testing that,” Hermann made his way into the kitchen now, starting to brew tea mostly out of habit. The tea in the mess hall was alway terrible generic brand. There was a shop down in the Bone Slums which sold the same tea his mother made when he was still a child, years ago. It had been his father’s favourite, as well. He vaguely wondered when the last time Illia had gotten a cup, since tea in general was not particularly cheap or abundant these days, let alone specific german brands. This particular box of Messmer’s Elderflower-and-lime tea had actually been found three months prior by Newt, who had recalled that Hermann had liked it.

 

**_It’s a clear day, sunny and warm. We’re sitting outside beneath the oak tree in the backyard. Mother turns to me, smiling, the sun is blinding behind her. ‘You’ll do fine on the exam, meine kleine Mathegenie, you always do well’. Worry bubbles up inside, and I feel my mother’s arms wrap around my shoulders--_ **

 

“We should test it more. We gotta have some sort of working theory...” Newt was staring at him blearily, his glasses still on the table, “you making that tea?”

 

“Of course, and, I’m not sure why you are so keen to be looking into this so intently at the moment. We’ve understood this as a basic concept for months...”

 

“Except you kept denying it! And there was no solid arguments! I just, I wanna know,” he kicked back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs, “just in case.”

 

Hermann paused from filling the kettle to raise his eyebrows, “in case of what, may I ask?”

 

“I dunno, in case someone decides to cut out one of our vocal cords, we’ll still be able to be geniuses by talking through one another.” He looked so convinced Hermann wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. He snorted, shaking his head.

 

“In that situation have our hands also been cut off so we cannot write?”

 

“Of course, man. No evil villains just go for the vocal cords.”

 

“I’m not sure of any who go for the vocal cords at all.”

 

“I dunno, there is that one guy from that one anime. Uh, Dead...something--”

 

“My God, please just stop,” Hermann sets the kettle, before joining Newton once again at the table, “fine, we will go on. But only because I know I will be hearing about it from you all night regardless of if you’re actually talking. It’s your turn again.”

 

They stay up until 3:00am, when being awake for 23 hours straight finally wears on Hermann enough that he threatens to strangle Newton if he makes him go onto the roof and think really hard about something again.

 

They decide on a working theory by the time they crawl into their respective beds; a drift sans a third party barrier such as a Pons system will result in a mental scar, which will in turn force the Drift into a permanently ‘on’ position, allowing Ghost Drifting to occur for an extended amount of time as well as with higher intensity information exchange. The amount of information transferred in real-time across the Drift highly depends on the emotional intensity of the information, as well as distance of the two subjects. It is speculated but unproven that greater distances can be spanned as long as the information being transmitted is compelling enough to move through the Drift. It is speculated but unproven that physical contact intensifies the Drift and heightens real-time relay capabilities.

 

Hermann changes into his pyjamas and turns off the lights at 3:30am. He wonders if the fact that Newt would be falling asleep later would have any effect on having a Nightmare, which usually occurred between 4:00 and 5:00am. He hoped Newt didn’t have a Nightmare at all that night and he could sleep at least until 8:00am.

 

Newt didn’t wake him up that night because of a nightmare.

 

Newt didn’t wake him up at all, because when Hermann awoke at 8:00am, Newton was gone.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a brief bro-date by the harbour with Tendo, Newt is taken to Mr.Petrelli and finds out exactly what they need him for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a lil bit of blood and what I suppose is a panick attack, it's near the end after "Newt blinked, his eyes wide". 
> 
> We're finally getting there, guys! And like I said, Newt/Hermann for the endgame, honestly!

Of course Newt didn't sleep. Sleeping was for the weak, and sleeping brought nightmares, and sleeping would only make the meeting in the Bone Slums come quicker. It was a bodily function that could easily be opted out of with enough willpower, and if anything, Newt had  _willpower._

 

After Hermann excused himself for bed, Newt locked himself into his room, flipping down onto the bed with his face buried in his pillow. He laid like that for a while, thinking about Hermann and their linked minds and the ghost drift with the Kaiju and what Mr. Petrelli could want from him.

 

Hermann had been uncharacteristically helpful with testing their Ghost Drift theory. Maybe it was because he was just as curious as Newt was about it--it was, after all, a shared experience--or maybe he was doing it to make Newt feel better. It was obvious he knew something was wrong, and it had taken all of Newt's energy to keep it a secret from him. It was especially hard when the man was intentionally probing around his head to test the theory of distance versus drift strength.

 

But Newt had figured out how to put down theoretical "do not enter" tape around certain areas of his mind. It wasn't so hard, really; it was exhausting to keep up, but it was like keeping a mental barrier. He could feel it when Hermann was poking about--it was like a subtle little pull on the Drift--and he would just...push back with nothingness.

 

It seemed to work, too, because the whole night Hermann was trying to figure out why Newt was so distressed, and piece together the few things Newt had let slip. If he knew what was going on, he didn't show it.

 

Unfortunately it didn't seem like he could hold up the same sort of mental block against the Hivemind. He could always feel it there, subtly sitting back and watching him, and he knew that if it wanted, he could be taken over again for who knew how long---

 

_**pain dark d ark cold rising up dar k** _

 

It was only an eventuality.

 

Maybe this was for the best, seeing as sooner than later he'd just be a walking husk for a Kaiju, as far as he could tell. Being cut open and prodded at couldn't be that bad in comparison. ** _If that's even what the folks at Fenestra even want to do. You don't even know, Geizsler, you're jumping conclusions as per usual. Yeah, sure, he's a creepy mob-boss-esque man with the power to cut you into quarters if he felt like it, but he's a man looking for scientific answers, and you've always been better at science when you're conscious._**

****

**_That being said, that Mr. Duncan dude totally looks like he could rip me in two with just his hands, now his inner monologue was talking amongst itself, And who even knows about Ms. Le. We didn't even get to meet her, really, but from what Herms let on she's not someone who would blink at the suggestion of frontal lobe extraction for the sake of science._ **

****

**_You're always jumping to dissection, are we really that obsessed with things being cut open? You know that's not the worst thing they could do to us._ **

 

The realization that he was right shuddered through him.

 

**_They could always make you drift with it again._ **

 

***

 

He left the Shatterdome at five, opting to wander the nearly empty Hong Kong streets than be trapped in his bedroom with too many versions of himself arguing in his head. By seven, he was down by the bay. Well, as close to the bay as he could get, since it was almost completely blocked off by fences and military personnel. There was, however, a small hole in the barbed wire between two fences where he could slip through to an old shipping dock, long since abandoned due to Kaiju Blue.

 

This wasn't the first time he had been down there since the Breach closed. Newt would, every once in a while, find himself sitting on the end of a defunct shipping dock, his legs swinging over the edge above the water. He didn't always remember actually walking there. He liked to say to himself he enjoyed the smell of the ocean and the cool spray of salt water on his face, but he wasn't always sure if it Newton Geizsler proper who liked it. Had he always liked the ocean? Of course, that's what brought him into K-Science to begin with.

 

He hadn't always felt so pulled to sit with his feet dipped beneath the surface, though.

 

The sun was making its way across the sky already. He checked his watch; he had already been sitting by the bayside for two hours. It was nine. Three more hours until---

 

**_c old you co me to meet where the ocean rises up, you c ome to be a p a rt of us on ce mor e_ **

 

"Ey, Newt, brother, what are you doing down here?" The dock sagged to the side and suddenly someone was sitting next to him, clapping him on the shoulder. Newt blinked blearily, suddenly staring down Tendo Choi as he plopped down on the old dock next to him.

 

"I could ask you the same question?" He had never seen Tendo down by the docks before--or really anyone else for that matter--but out of anyone who was most likely to spend long periods of wistfully looking out towards the ocean, Tendo would be up there on the list. He had a kid after all. Herc would be up there, as well. Maybe becoming a parent made you more likely to stare out at large bodies of water.

 

"--shift, so I had some extra time. Thought I'd come down and, y'know...look." Newt tuned in a moment too late, while Tendo was gesticulating towards the ocean with a nod. He nodded back, following Tendo's arm out along the horizon. The sun was crawling up the sky, and behind him he could hear the city awake now, breaking the morning silence, "where's the H-man? I don't see you two separated these days."

 

"Oh, uh," Newt absently rubbed at the back of his head, looking from Tendo to the water, "we happen to be two separate entities, unpopular to common belief we aren't symbiotic and can function disjointedly."

 

"I know that, it's just that you never really do." Tendo smiled kindly, one hand absently playing with his rosary, "there's nothing wrong with spending a lot of time with someone you like. And you two seem to like each other a whole lot."

 

"Mm, it's more the, uh, brain thing," Newt waved vaguely towards his head, "it's weird."

 

"I've always thought so. That's why I'm busting my ass in LOCCENT command rather than to become a pilot.  Not that I would have even I had the choice. That brain stuff is just unnatural, brother. Humans weren't meant to share like that."

 

"It's definitely...something." Newt gave a weak smile, still feeling a little sick as he glanced at his watch. Maybe it was because of how violent his first drift had been, but the drift with Hermann had been...peaceful, almost, in comparison. Mundane. Hermann's life was so natural, rather than the third party. The Hivemind had been violent and chaotic. Maybe that's why he had clung so closely to the bond with Hermann; it kept him held above the flames of the Other.

 

"I've never drifted, y'know, but I can always tell when someone has. Guess it's from years of watching a pair of drift partners' every move. I can tell yours is different." Tendo shot Newt a sly grin. Newt leaned back, backing his hands on the dock, eyebrows raising as his heart skipped a beat.

 

"Why would you say that?" Was it that obvious? If Tendo knew something was up, how long would it be before everyone knew and the brain poking started? The Hivemind flexed, **_y es soon._**

 

"I don't know, it's hard to place. Just, maybe in the way you interact. It's a little...more in sync than even with veteran pilots. It's like you know what the other is thinking, and after one neural handshake..."

 

"Maybe it has to do with the way we drifted," Newt said, "uh, that's what we think, anyways. Nothing really special. Honestly," He shrugged, "more powerful than usual. And most of it is just from hanging around someone for nearly ten years."

 

"You aren't fighting as much," Tendo's eyebrows raised, "Y'know my wife and I stopped fighting as much when we started--"

 

"No! God, no, it's just that...once you know why someone reacts a certain way to things, you don't really want to piss them off as much."

 

"So you two aren't banging?"

 

"What?! No! Oh god, do people think we are?" Newt watched Tendo's eyebrow raise in horror, "I mean, not that I haven't ever thought about it. And hey if he offered I'd totally say yes but with things standing as they are, no, we're not banging."

 

"I knew it," Tendo snorted, "Herc owes me ten bucks."

 

"You're taking bets?!"

 

"You guys did a complete one-eighty, a lot of us figured there had to be something."

 

"Well, it's not that." **_Unfortunately,_** "which reminds me, if you see Herms today don't tell him I was down here. He'll probably be looking for me and I don't really want him to find me." He sighed, looking out over the ocean. The tainted water still sparkled in the sun, rippled gently in the breeze. Far off he could see little boats carrying scientists who were testing the water. They had been working towards something that will get Kaiju blue out of water for a while, and Newt had been one of the people that specific team contacted for more information about what makes it so toxic.

 

"Sure. Where you headed?" Tendo smiled easily, but his eyes still looked concerned.

 

"Ehn, nowhere in particular. I just feel like hanging around the city alone for once." The lie was easy enough, and Tendo seemed to buy it.

 

"I know that feeling, brother," he clapped Newt hard on the shoulder, "don't worry. I'll keep it between us."

  
  


***

 

Tendo stayed for a little while longer, before leaving saying he 'better get back before LOCCENT is burnt to the ground'.

 

This left Newt to himself for the remaining hour or so, and finding nothing better to do save for turning and hailing a cab to take him to the airport and far, far away, he decided to just go to the Bone Slums early.

 

There was already someone waiting for him there.

 

The Ribcage Cafe was a small little cafe carved into what was left of Reckoner's third rib. It was a small little place that seemed bigger on the inside, being literally carved into the bones of the Kaiju. Newt had even eaten there a few times before, they had great bagels and ____, and had thought about grabbing a bite to eat while waiting for Mr. Petrelli. However a dark van pulled up in front of him on his way towards the cafe, and the man in a dark suit who slid out of the front seat gave him the feeling that he wouldn't get to try any bagels this time.

 

"Dr. Geizsler," The man wasn't Duncan or Petrelli, or any man Newton had seen before, but he was about six feet tall, bald, with thick black sunglasses and looked to be made muscle under the suit. He slid open the side door, tilting his head towards the seat inside, "please, get in the van." It wasn't an offer.

 

"Uhh, well, I'm here to meet Mr. Petrelli, and, well, from what I can see he's not in the van so maybe--"

 

"He wishes for you to meet him at more secure location," the man said. Newt bit his lower lip, rubbing at the aching feeling at the back of his head. He glanced down the street, half expecting Hermann to be running towards him with his cane held high ready for attack, but the street was empty. **_Of course Hermann isn't coming, he doesn't even know where I am, and probably will never know._**

 

"Well, I mean, it really couldn't get any more mafia-ish." Newt sighed, ducking into the van. He buckled his seatbelt and looked around while Hitman #1 got back into the passenger seat. There was an equally scary looking Hitman #2 who was behind the wheel, staring at him through thick sunglasses in the rear view mirror, “unless you threw a bag over my head and knocked me out.”

 

“There won’t be any of that,” Hitman #1 said gruffly, “this is a government organization.”

 

“Like that ever stopped people from being assassinated,” Newt muttered to himself, laughing nervously when the doors locked while they pulled away.

 

The two suited men were not good for conversation, and wherever this 'secure location' was, it sure wasn't a quick drive. After a few failed attempts at conversation which were received with about as much response as an egg hitting a brick wall, Newt opted to stare at the ceiling in silence, trying his best to ignore his own mind. The Hivemind was as antsy as he was, and no doubt just waiting to take hold again.

 

**_It's an open link that won’t close. And it’s a two way street, which means the Kaiju are hearing us just as we’re hearing them._** He replayed the conversation he had with Hermann two nights ago, **_If they can crawl up through the Drift and use my body as a vessel, why can't I do the same to them?_** Kaiju were generally better than humans at navigating neurospace; perhaps the Hivemind had adapted easily to the Drift, with its similarities to the Hivemind itself. **_Maybe manipulation through the Drift was another adaption it had learned to make. Maybe I just need to adapt, too. But everything in evolution is cause and effect...why are they adapting in this way? What is the causation for this effect?_**

 

He supposed the Hivemind's ability to manipulate and effectively communicate through the Breach somewhat proved his theory of distance versus drift strength, though he was still unsure if the Hivemind in his head was direct feedback of the Hivemind still on the other side of the Breach, the community they supposedly blew to smithereens, of if it was simply a fragment of an idea his mind was hosting. Like the ghost of the Hivemind chilling in his brain and sometimes taking control of his limbs. **_Well I guess that's cool, too. I always wanted to be haunted by the ghost of a dead sea monster._**

 

The van rumbled beneath him, and Hitman #1 and #2 were as unresponsive as ever. The back of the van was dark, and windowless. There was absolutely nothing for his overworked mind to do. 

Sighing, Newt pulled out his phone; he supposed they were out of the city because he had no service, but at least the battery wasn't dead. **_Well, at least I have fifty levels of Candy Crush to still beat._**

 

Fourty-nine levels later, the clock said they had been driving for an hour and seventeen minutes. Newt groaned, staring daggers at the back of Hitman #1.

 

"Okay, look, I know this is a super secret Avengers-like scenario in which I am Dr. Bruce Banner being taken in for his expertise but also just in case they need a giant monster to help fight aliens, but I'm literally going to piss myself if we don't stop soon."

 

"We're almost there." Hitman #2 grunted. Newt peered over his shoulder out the windshield; they were speeding along a dirt road, the bones of what used to be farmland on either side.

 

"Oh...kay," Newt's stomach dropped, and he found himself wishing they still had a ways to go, "I mean, no rush, ha--" **_Keep it together, Newton, all they want from you is some scientific consultation._ ** His inner monologue was starting to sound eerily like Hermann these days.

 

They rattled along the dirt road for two more minutes or so before slowing and turning down a long dirt driveway. A low, domed building came into view and soon enough they were pulling to a stop in front of it. It looked somewhat like an airplane hangar, made of white corrugated steel and thick steel beams. There was only one door, in front of which a group of people were stood. Newt could pick Mr. Petrelli, Ms. Le, and Mr. Duncan out among them.

 

Hitman #2 coasted them to a stop, slipping the keys out of the admission while Hitman #1 popped out of the passenger seat to come around to the side and let Newton out of the back. Newt’s brief idea of making a run for it died pretty quickly when #1 wrapped his beefy hands around his arms, nearly pulling him out of the back of the van and dragging him towards the group. The area did seem very kind towards escapees, either; from what Newt could see, there was nothing but burnt out farm land for miles. **_Honestly, there is no need for escape, these are government representatives who are kindly asking for your assistance._**

“I’m glad you could join us, Dr. Geizsler. I trust Grunder and Johnson were gentle with you?” Mr. Petrelli came forward out of the group, offering his hand to shake. Newton took it, trying best not to look like he was about to throw up.

 

“Yeah, they were fine, though not the most talkative bunch.”

 

“We don’t hire them for their conversational skills,” a faint smile quirked up at the corners of Petrelli’s lips. He gestured towards the group behind him, “I would like to introduce you to the _Fenestra_ Initiative.”

 

“Ehn, the name still isn’t jiving for me. Still sounds like a Marvel movie.” Newt looked through the crowd; there weren’t too many, maybe a total of fifteen people. Aside from the visitors from the Board of Defense, he didn’t recognize anyone.

 

“If you have a better suggestion for nomenclature we would be happy to hear it, though I’m sure once you see what we’re doing here, you might agree it’s the best choice,” Petrelli roughly slapped his hand on Newt’s shoulder, steering Newt through the group and into the hangar, “It’s got a better ring to it than ‘Wall of Life’ if you ask me.”  

 

The interior was vast and dark. There were no walls in the large expanse of space, only sections cordoned off like cubicles in an office. The front area was separated from the back with a black curtain that hung from the steel beams across the domed ceiling. The area seemed business oriented; there was a long table for meetings, some desks with computers set up, and even a little area that looked to be for press conferences. Behind the curtain looked to be more medical. Newt caught a glimpse of a large piece of machinery before being wheeled away towards the meeting area.

 

“I’m sure you have many questions for us, but I would like to begin by thanking you, Dr. Geizsler. Your compliance with our team here will continue to be accepted with gratitude. You are the final piece in a puzzle that we have been trying to finish for several years.” Petrelli guided him into a chair. The other chairs filled slowly as people filtered in. Newt rubbed at the back of his head, feeling all eyes on him, “You remain, Dr. Geizsler, on of the few people on this planet with the honour of having drifted with a Kaiju, and we here find that remarkable.”

 

“What is even more remarkable is that you’ve done it twice and survived.” Ms. Le sat across from Newt, Mr. Petrelli to his right at the head of the table, while Hitman 1 and 2 stood behind him, arms crossed. More important looking people sat to his side, though Mr. Duncan was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Yeah, well, I was saving the world and everything, so,” he found his hands worrying at his own arms, his tattoos, and opted to shove them into his pockets, “it was kind of out of necessity, not for fun.”

 

“Here you have the chance to save the world again,” Petrelli said, pulling a small black box out of his coat pocket. He set it on the table, pressing a button on the side. The room lit up with a blue hologram, showing the decimated fields of Coastal China, the ruined land in San Francisco, the burnt leftovers of Sydney, “you yourself said the Kaiju were sent to terraform the Earth.”

 

“Uhh, y-yeah, the cat-three and lower Kaiju were to test us, and to damage as much as they could for the Earth’s new owners. They weren’t built to kill, not really, which is why they were so much easier to kill. Trespasser was a test. They were all tests, until category four and higher. They were made to decimate the rest of the human race. Theoretically after the humans were all taken care of they’d send out what would be essentially lawnmowers, terraformers.”  

 

“And would you say that these earlier Kaiju have permanently damaged the Earth?” Mr. Le asked while images of the still-ruined Sydney Harbour flickered before them.

 

“That depends. Natural disasters have hurt humanity before, but we’ve always rebuilt. Even unnatural disasters, like the first and second World Wars, hasn’t been enough to stop us.”

 

“There is one thing that the Kaiju had that us humans or mother nature never unleashed,” Petrelli said, “and that’s Kaiju Blue. It’s poisoning our water, killing our ecosystems, and until recently there has been no way to stop it.”

 

Newt’s eyebrows raised, “until recently?”

 

“Our scientists have developed the world’s only known Kaiju Blue detox system; the only really effective one, that is,” a woman halfway down the table spoke up. She was wearing a lab coat, with thick glasses wire glasses and had short, thick black hair which stuck up several different ways at once.

 

"This is Dr. Dubashi," Ms. Le said, "she has been working with us for several years trying to find a detoxifier for Kaiju Blue."

 

"I believe we've had correspondence on a few occasions, Dr. Geizsler." Dr. Dubashi nodded. Newt had a sudden flashback to a K-Science conference in 2020, having a few too many drinks after giving the keynote speech, and talking at the bar with a pretty, young scientist who was a little too excited to share her theories on Kaiju blood coagulation. He couldn’t quite recall how that night ended but from what Hermann later told him he had stolen a ‘Dong Street’ sign from the bar and had thrown up in the alley way on the way back to the hotel. He never saw the street sign again but he had gotten an email from Dr. Dubashi a few days later.

 

Newt groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly, “Oh, yeah, you asked for some citations for your thesis on Kaiju Blue.”

 

“Yes,” the doctor nodded, “we have since found a veritable way to detoxify acres of land and ocean, thanks to that very research.”

 

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Newt crossed his arms, looking back to Le and Petrelli, “what’s the catch?”

 

“The main ingredient in the detoxifier is Kaiju Blue itself,” Dr. Dubashi said, while the hologram switched to a series of landscapes polluted with inky blue, “one of the many reasons Kaiju Blue contamination is so widespread is because the blood barely coagulates on its own, which causes it to spread quickly.”

 

“Yes, I remember that from your thesis,” Newt smiled lamely, “I can remember some things sometimes, amazingly.”

 

“Apparently. The logical next step towards clean up would be to not just purify the water but to create something that would clot the blood and give us better ability to remove it from water and land. We tried to find an organic, non-Kaiju clotting factor concentrate, however none would work efficiently. We did find that, like in humans, replacement therapy to concentrate the appearance of clotting factor IX was effective, but not to the degree we would like. We don’t want it just to congeal, we want it to turn to something that can be easily handled,” she adjusted her glasses, looking down the table at a few others who were also wearing lab coats. The hologram switched to show a diagram of the cellular breakdown of Kaiju Blue, “since joining _Fenestra_ we have been able to isolate the clotting factor genome in Kaiju Blue and genetically modify it separately so even a drop will solidify a glass of Kaiju Blue, however it is made from pure in-vein blood and....”

 

“We’ve run out of Kaiju to get the blood from,” Newt finished her sentence with a frown. Dr. Dubashi nodded, crossing her arms. Newt sighed, “well, that’s all great, but I don’t see how having me here will help at all.”

 

“That’s where you are wrong, Newt. You are very important indeed,” Petrelli had his hands folded in front of him, a smirk on his face, “I’m sure you’ve read Caitlin Lightcap’s journal on Ghost Drifting.”

 

Newt’s face drained of colour. He nodded, “y-yes? But I--”

 

“Of course you have. You reference them directly in tthis report,” he flicked his wrist, and one of the men standing behind him handed him a manila folder. Petrelli took it, sliding it to Newton, “you also claim yourself that you have a continuous ‘Ghost Drift’ with the Kaiju.”

 

“This...this was never published. How do you have this?” Newt flipped through the notebook inside the folder. It was his personal journal from several months prior. Just like the one he wrote down notes on Hermann’s mind-reading abilities, he would keep this one under his pillow at night, scribbling down thoughts and theories before bed. It was not a report, just a personal account, emphasis on personal, “I thought I lost it...where did you get this?”

 

“We all have our ways about things, I’m sure you understand. Newton, you’ve also stated in that very same report that the Kaiju communicate with you through this drift, and you speculate that the drift is a two way communication, that they could hear you as you hear them. Is that right?”

 

“Yes, but--”

 

“We need you to send the Kaiju a message, Newt,” Ms. Le said, her dark eyes intense, “we need you to tell them to come back.”

 

Newt blinked, his eyes wide. There was the deafening sound of rushing water, and a distinctive ringing in his ears. Inside him the Kaiju jolted into action, clawing at the Drift like it was something it could break down.

 

Then something broke.

 

**_Let us f ree open the door let us escape the c old da rk the depths open b reach and let us rise ag ain_ **

**_The dark ocean is suffocating, closing in, like hands on your throat. The panic is overwhelming, the fear of being trapped strangling you.  You move upwards towards the surface but the way is blocked. You snarl and claw at the obstruction but it will not move; it cannot move, and you know it will not until the mouth is reopened. It will reopen soon, you need the h uman to re o pen it, and it will, though kicki ng and sc re a mi ng--_ **

"Dr. Geizsler," there were hands on his arms, and Newt shirked them off with a small scream. Dr. Dubashi let go of him, frowning. She was standing over him, and she wasn't the only one; he was on his back on the ground, looking up at a team of people in white lab coats. He groaned, pinching his nose, where blood seeped out like a leaky faucet, "please, calm down."

 

"I'm fine, honest," he sat up, or tried to; he was laying in a hospital bed. The hand not trying to stave off the bleeding was handcuffed to the side, his legs tied down with leather straps attached to the frame. Dr, Dubashi smiled apologetically.

 

"You were being...combative."

 

"God, how long was I out?"

 

"I wouldn't use the word 'out'," she smirked, signalling the other lab coats to leave, "but I would say approximately thirteen minutes or so. I take it this has happens often?" She handed him a rag from her pocket, and he took it, wiping ineffectively at his face.

 

"No, not 'often', not yet at least, but it seems to be happening on a somewhat regular basis. God," he winced, moving his hand in favour for the back of his head, which throbbed painfully every few seconds.

 

"It's the Kaiju, they're entering your brain through the Drift, manipulating it and using your body as a vessel for as long as they can continue control." Dr. Dubashi laughed at Newt's raised eyebrows. She sat on the side of his bed, looking somewhat sheepish, "I've read that report, too."

 

"You guys keep saying report when it was more of a journal!"

 

"I did notice it had a very 'dear diary' like feel," Dubashi sighed, "but then again, some of your professional writing isn't exactly written with the most formal jargon, either. Petrelli told us it was published to the public record."

 

"The guy looks like a mob boss, you really trust him?"

 

"He and the others who began _Fenestra_ were the only ones who would give me funding, the only ones who believed in my work," her eyes hardened, "if I recall correctly a certain biologist almost laughed his way off a bar stool when I explained my idea at the K-sci ideas summit in 2020."

 

Newt laid back, staring up at the ceiling, "I'm sorry, I was pretty much smashed by that point. If it makes you feel any better I don't remember laughing, and I did give you those citations. And speaking of alcohol, I could really use a drink right now. It might take off the edge of the fact that you're all crazy, no offense. And your request makes no sense."

 

"Our request?" Dubashi didn't move from the bedside, but her eyebrow did quirk slightly. Newt nodded, removing the bloodied rag from his nose which, upon further inspection, seemed to have stopped bleeding.

 

"Yeah, 'tell them to come back', even if I had to tell them--because let me tell you they are real excited about coming back--it's useless. They can't get through as long as the Breach is closed."

 

"That won't be a problem," the doctor smiled, standing, "my research isn't the only breakthrough we've made. Here," she crossed the little cubical-like room, fetching a basin half-filled with water and a clean rag. She set it down in Newt's lap, "clean yourself up, and get some rest. Maybe a little later I'll show you the machine." She smirked, turning and walking a few steps.

 

"W-wait!" Newt sat up, raising his cuffed hand as far as it would go, "I'm still strapped down!"

 

"Oh, well, we can't have you escaping," Dubashi looked over her shoulder and winked, then turned and left the room, "by the way if you have to piss, just holler and someone will get the bedpan."

 

 


End file.
